Mercy in the Present Moment

Second Sunday of Easter/Low Sunday
    [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen].  Today we celebrate Divine Mercy Sunday.  The paradox of mercy is that we all want it regularly accessible, but we can often struggle to actually dispense it.  When someone has wronged us, we can so easily focus on justice and how the other person should make restitution for what he or she has done.  But when we have done something wrong, how quickly do we run to God and ask for His Divine Mercy, hoping that we can obtain it without too much effort.
    Our Lord reminds us of our obligations to share with others the mercy that we receive in the parable of the unforgiving steward.  If you remember, the steward owes the master a large amount of money, and cannot pay back the debt.  When about to go to debtor’s prison, the steward pleads with the master to give him more time, and the master forgives the debt.  But when the steward sees fellow workers who owe him a much smaller amount, the steward throws them into debtor’s prison, despite them using the same plea that the steward had used earlier with the master. 
    That call to mercy reflects what God has already done for us.  His mercy, which was won at the price of the Blood of the Son of God, granted us freedom from the bonds of sin.  It released us from the hold of Satan so that we could freely continue as sons and daughters in the Son of God.  If we are adopted sons and daughters, then our vocation is to live like our heavenly Father, whose mercy endures forever, as Psalm 118 (117) states. 
    Part of living a merciful life means showing mercy to ourselves.  St. Faustina, the great apostle of Divine Mercy, once said, “The past does not belong to me; the future is not mine; with all my soul I try to make use of the present moment.”  How easy it can be to dwell on our past mistakes, or hope that we can make up for sins in the future.  Instead, God invites us live in the present moment, because that is all we have. 
    As far as the past goes, we can all say, to one degree or another, that there are things we wish we would have done differently in the past.  For some of us, that means major deviations from the type of life Christ wants us to live.  For others, that means smaller veers away from the path of holiness.  But we all have things that, in hindsight, we should not have done.  On this Divine Mercy Sunday, God invites us to commend our past to Him, and no longer be shackled by past mistakes, no matter how big or how small.  Sometimes this is done by making a general confession or life confession, where, in an appointment for confession with a priest (not at the usual weekday times), one gives all the past sins that he or she can remember to the Lord to be washed clean in His Blood.  But, aside from those rare times, we should not bring up past, confessed sins.  Because ruminating on those past sins and treating them like they still exist is lacking confidence in the power of God’s mercy.  Satan will often try to get us to act as if past confessed sins are not forgiven, but we should reject that temptation as a lie from the father of lies.  Yes, each act has a consequence, and sometimes those consequences reach into our present.  But, if we have confessed our sins, we can trust in the mercy of God and know that the sins are no more.
    As for the future, it can be easy to act like everything depends on us; that we have to do everything to save ourselves, and so we fret about what might happen.  Just as God wants us to entrust our past to Him, He also wants us to entrust our future to Him, a future that is purified by the mercy of God.  We don’t know what the future will hold.  We know that our present choices affect our future, but God can mercifully guide our future in spite of our present choices.  It is a mercy not to worry about what might happen, because we can spend so much energy and time on fretting about what could be, but what might never be. 
    As a planner and a type A personality, this is probably the hardest way for me to accept God’s mercy.  It is so easy for me to get worked up and lose sleep over how something will turn out, or if someone meant something by a particular choice of phrasing.  If, instead, I am doing my best to seek the will of God and do it, then no matter what I know God will help me through whatever consequences may come from any of my actions, good or ill.  There is a real freedom in not trying to be God and be in all the possibilities of the future.  It is part of God’s mercy that we don’t worry about what tomorrow holds.  Today, as our Lord says, has enough concern for itself.

    Mercy means living in the present, because it is all that we have, and it is the only opportunity that we have to reach out for God’s mercy, and share God’s mercy ourselves.  God’s redemption, His act of mercy, stretches into all time: past, present, and future.  But we can only accept and share that mercy in the present, because that is the only time in which we operate.  The Apostles in the Upper Room could have worried about how they had abandoned the Lord at His Passion.  Peter could have worried about how he had denied even know the Lord only a few days before.  The disciples could have wondered what this Risen Lord would do with them in the coming days, weeks, months, and years.  Thomas could have fretted not being in the Upper Room when Christ first appeared.  Instead, Christ invited them to be in the present moment, to receive His peace, a true gift of the Holy Spirit.  Instead, Christ gave His Apostles the power to extend that mercy in a formal and sacramental way so that the work of mercy, culminated in the Cross, could be accessed by generations of followers of Christ.  Christ did not encourage them to worry about the past.  He did not encourage them to plan for the future.  He only invited them to receive His peace in the present moment.
    [Mia, God’s mercy has brought you here to us as a catechumen.  Though not fully, you already belong to us by your desire for baptism.  As you continue to come to know the Lord in the coming weeks, you will see how God has worked in your past to bring you to this day, but you will also remember ways that you lived according to your ignorance of Christ and His Church.  Give that to God and His mercy, which will be poured over you in the waters of baptism.  You may worry about living as a Catholic after you are baptized, and if you will have the strength to continue in the path to which God called you.  Entrust that future to God’s mercy, and know that He will give you the strength to follow Him.]
    God wants to show us His mercy.  He wants us to share His mercy with others, but also to be receptive to His mercy ourselves.  He does not invite us to dwell on the past, nor to fret about the future.  Instead, in His mercy, He invites us to live in the present, and to be vessels and vehicles of the mercy of God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

The Good Ole Days

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Summer is the time of year when many of us take vacation time.  Whether it’s a little trip down to Cedar Point in Sandusky, a trip to Lake Michigan or Lake Huron, or maybe we have a place somewhere, summer in Michigan always feels like a good time to get away from home.  And yet, as good as vacation is, it is always good to be back home.  I know I was very ready to come back home from my summer classes.  There’s something about sleeping in your own house that is different from sleeping elsewhere, no matter how nice it is.  

Perhaps we can better understand the Jews’ frustration, then, because they were leaving their home (they had been in Egypt for over 400 years!) for a place they have never been, which was to become their new home.  They were not familiar with where they were going, and they were wandering around in a desert.  I think many, if not all, of us would grumble a little if we were put in a similar situation.  

But, their grumbling (and our grumbling, too) reveals how much we trust God.  Do we have faith that God will take care of us?  Or do we idolize the past, even though it had its own challenges.  How silly we probably think it sounds for the Israelites to say, “‘Would that we had died at the Lord’s hand in the land of Egypt, as we sat by our fleshpots and ate our fill of bread!’”  They were basically saying, “I’d rather be a slave in Egypt and have died there than travel here, because at least I had food in my stomach!”  God had promised to send them to a land flowing with milk and honey, with the basic necessities (milk) and with the sweet things of life (honey), but they weren’t there yet, and so they preferred their past, even though it meant slavery.

In our Gospel, the same thing happens, except in a different way.  Instead of wanting to go back to Egypt, they want regular bread.  Jesus gave them a great sign, a miracle, when He fed the 5,000.  But the miracle was not intended merely for their bellies: it was intended to reveal who Jesus is: the Son of God.  But the people, who are excited about a new way of getting food, follow Jesus to get more.  Jesus understands their hearts, and says, “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled.’”  But then Jesus promises them food, “food that endures for eternal life.”  How do they respond?  They go back to the past, they go back to “the good ole’ days” with Moses in the desert and manna and quail.  

But Jesus isn’t promising them manna and quail.  Jesus is promising what manna pointed to: the Eucharist.  Jesus is giving them bread which is not bread, but which is flesh.  And we get a hint of that at the end of the Gospel when Jesus says, “‘I am the bread of life.’”  

We, too, have that tendency to look backwards and pine for “the good ole’ days.”  When exactly those are varies from person to person.  Maybe it was two years ago.  Maybe it was 20 years ago.  Maybe it was the ‘50s.  Whenever it was, it can be hard to leave what is familiar to us and go on pilgrimage to where God leads us.  It means change, which is almost always hard.  It means going towards the unknown, because none of us know exactly what will happen in the future (if you do, let me know, and I’ll start playing the lottery).  But we can’t go back, any more than the Israelites could go back to Egypt.  That was their past; God was moving them into their future.

Maybe this present isn’t the future you imagined 5 years ago.  Maybe your health is not as good as you hoped it would be.  Maybe the culture is not what you hoped it would be.  Maybe there have been unexpected deaths that have shaken your very foundation.  Maybe the Church isn’t what you hoped it would be.  But, I can promise you this: if we follow God and trust in Him, He has nothing but our good in mind.  God did not lead the Israelites from Egypt to Sodom and Gomorrah.  Jesus did not feed the 5,000 and then given them little crackers that would rot after each day.  God led the Israelites to the Promised Land; Jesus gave His Bride, the Church, the Eucharist.  God is leading us somewhere, both as a parish and as individuals.  We’ve never been there before, and the unknown can be scary.  But if we trust in God and trust that He will never lead us where His love cannot surround us, then we don’t need to be afraid, because that place, too, will become our home: the place to which we long to return.

Don't Look Back!

Fifth Sunday of Lent

            One of the hardest things to do when you’re running a sprint in track is not to look back to see who is coming up behind you.  No matter whether you’re first and you want to see if anyone is gaining on you, or you just don’t want to be last, as you’re running those last meters, you want to know if you’re going to win, or if you need to push it harder.  Ironically, for most people who look back, they seal their fate and the other person often passes them, because looking back slows us down.

            Isaiah talks about it in our first reading.  He says for the Lord, “Remember not the events of the past, the things of long ago consider not; see, I am doing something new!”  God tells the Israelites not to dwell on what led them into exile (their idolatry, their trust in foreign nations), but to look ahead and see the good that God wants them to accomplish.

St. Paul talks about that in our second reading today: “forgetting what lies behind but straining forward to what lies ahead, I continue my pursuit toward the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling, in Christ Jesus.”  St. Paul certainly had stuff that he could have dwelt on in his past.  He was a zealous Pharisee; he arrested men, women, and children for following Jesus; he condoned the stoning of Stephen.  But, while he did not forget his past, he didn’t keep looking back to it to weigh him down.  He recognized he was the least of the apostles because he had persecuted the Church of God, but he used that to propel his missionary activity, and is still the greatest missionary the world has ever known.

            We see it in our Gospel passage today.  Jesus doesn’t ignore the woman’s past.  He doesn’t condone the fact that she was caught in adultery.  But He forgives her, and tells her to move on, to “‘Go, and…do not sin any more.’”  He does not want her past to determine her future, unlike the scribes and Pharisees, who want to end her future because of her past. 

            When we focus too much on our past, we lose our future, just like the sprinter who can lose the race because he looks behind him.  We all have a past, we all have things that we wish we would not have done: not just mistakes or accidents, but choices that we have made that we should not have.  It’s called being human.  Look at St. Peter: he denied that he even knew Jesus.  But he didn’t stay there.  He repented, he wept for his sins, and he reaffirmed his love for Jesus.  Look at St. Mary Magdalene: she had seven demons that Jesus had to cast out of her.  We don’t know exactly how they got there, but it wasn’t a pleasant past.  But she didn’t stay stuck on the fact that she had seven demons, she followed Jesus, even to the cross when all but one of the other apostles abandoned Jesus, and was able to be the first to see the risen Christ.  And that’s just the beginning!  Through the millennia, there have been saints who had serious sins in their past.  But they, like St. Paul, forgot what was behind them, and continued their pursuit towards the goal of union with God forever in heaven.

            “But Fr. Anthony, you don’t know what I’ve done!”  Or, “Maybe I haven’t done any one thing that was really bad, but I’ve got a whole lifetime of little bad things that sure add up!”  Please!  Don’t give your sins that power.  None of them are so heinous as to be unforgiveable.  Bring them to the Lord and let Him nail those sins to the wood of the cross so that new life can come from our death to sin and life in Christ.  What happens when we do give our sins that power, when we remain stuck in the past, is what happened to Judas: despair and death.  Judas could not turn away from his past and turn towards the Lord, and so could not receive the forgiveness that he wanted and needed.

            Now, in not looking back, it certainly does not mean that we do not learn from our past sins.  God wanted Israel to look ahead to the future, to see the blessings of fidelity to God, but He certainly didn’t want them to slip back into their old sins.  St. Paul continued to run the race and look ahead to the prize of salvation, but he didn’t think that he could just go back to being a Pharisee and persecutor of the Church because he had been forgiven.  And Jesus exhorted the woman not to be adulterous in the future.  Not looking back doesn’t mean that we forgo true conversion and treat our sins as if they do not offend God.  They do offend God, and harm whom we are called to be.  But they are not more powerful than God, and God can write straight even with crooked lines. 

            The same happens in reconciliation.  We don’t pretend we haven’t done anything wrong.  Rather, we confess our sins, acknowledging how we have turned away from the Lord, and then He forgives us and urges us to press on towards Him and the road to salvation, that straight and narrow road that Jesus spoke of in the Gospel.  But just as we don’t pretend we haven’t sinned, we also don’t let our sins bog us down afterwards, because God has forgiven them.

            Don’t be the sprinter who loses the race because you looked back and were overtaken by the past.  Win the race by learning from past sins and pressing onwards toward God, keeping Him always before your eyes.